


Bag of Tigers

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationship, M/M, The Adventure of the Empty House, The Empty House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on the conclusion of "The Adventure of the Empty House" as seen through the eyes of Colonel Sebastian Moran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bag of Tigers

             “You  _fiend_.  You clever,  _clever fiend!_ “  Struggling up from his knees, Sebastian Moran met the cool grey gaze of the man standing over him with desperate eyes.

  
             “Ah, Colonel!”  Sherlock Holmes’ face betrayed no trace of emotion as his eyes met the prostrate colonel’s, his delicate, leather-clad fingers—fingers that danced like mosquitoes’ limbs over tired shoulder blades and scarred muscles—adjusting his rumpled collar.  He licked his lips delicately, and Moran shuddered.  “‘ _Journeys end in lovers’ meetings_ ,’ as the old play says,” ( _surely_ , Moran’s mind screams,  _surely he must have seen my lips twist slightly!_ ) “I don’t think I have had the pleasure of seeing you since you favoured me with those attentions as I lay on the ledge above the Reichenbach Fall.”

  
             At this, Moran felt the blood drain from his face even as Holmes’ remained a porcelain mask, and the gunman couldn’t help but shrink slightly from the cruel way the hard line of the detective’s mouth twisted around those last few words.  Flashes of soaked fabric and plastered-down hair flashed through his mind, and for a moment he allowed himself to remember the cool press of cold stone drenched in spray and the caress of light, dexterous fingers.

  
             Then there was a sharp jerk that pulled him back to the present as the officers yanked him to his feet to face Holmes.  Sherlock Holmes, with whom he had spent three uncannily warm nights on a ledge overlooking a most deadly waterfall.  Sherlock Holmes, who now met his gaze without a flicker of remorse or emotion.

  
             “You  _fiend_!” Colonel Sebastian Moran’s voice escaped his throat in a choked snarl, thick with rage, bewilderment, and something resembling hurt. “You cunning,  _cunning fiend_!”


End file.
